‘Thanks.’ Lola set off across the restaurant, peering into each booth as she passed and earning herself some odd looks along the way. No Pope so far. No Cheryl either.
Then she saw them. So wrapped up in each other theydidn’t even notice her standing there.
Stunned, Lola observed the giveaway body language going on between the two of them; if that wasn’t full-blown flirtation she didn’t know what was.
Hell’s bells, and she hadn’t even had the slightest inkling .. . On the other hand, thank God it wasn’t who she’d subconsciously been afraid it might be.
Cheryl spotted her first. Her face changed in an instant from lit up to oh fuck. She promptly knocked over her glass of wine.
‘Hi, Cheryl. I wouldn’t let him inject your frown lines if I were you. I’m not sure he’s a qualified doctor.’
‘You followed me!’ Cheryl bat-squeaked, the familiar flush crawling up her neck.
‘I had to. You wouldn’t tell me who you were seeing. Hello, Dad.’ Lola gave her father a hug. ‘I tried to ring you on Saturday night to see if you wanted to go to the cinema but your phone was switched off.’
‘Boring works do.’ Nick kissed her on the cheek then regarded her with concern. ‘Sorry about this. Are you upset?’
‘About you and Cheryl? God no, it’s fantastic! I just can’t believe it. How long has this been going on?’
‘A few weeks.’ Luckily the spilled wine was white; Nick used a pale green napkin to mop it up.
‘So that’s why you’ve been coming into the shop to buy so many books. I thought you were doing it so you could see me!’
‘Sweetheart, I was.’ Nick grinned. ‘You were the number one reason.’ He paused. ‘Cheryl was the unexpected bonus.’
Lola pulled up an extra chair and sat down. ‘Now I know how the star of the show feels when the understudy gets more applause than she does.’
‘Then I came in one day when you were off and we got chatting.’
‘I told him how nice you were to work for: Cheryl said hopefully.
‘Anyway, there was a spark between us, so I asked her out. We had a great time and it’s gone on from there.’
‘And you just forgot to mention it to your only daughter.’
‘We didn’t know how you’d react,’ said Cheryl.
‘You make it sound as if you’re scared of me.’ Lola shook her head in disbelief.
Cheryl pulled a face. ‘I am.’
‘Madam?’ A waiter materialised at the table with their menus. ‘Are you joining your friends for lunch?’
Lola’s stomach gurgled. She looked from her father to Cheryl then back again.
‘Is that your stomach? Are you starving?’ Nick squeezed her arm. ‘Of course you’re staying for lunch.’
Touched by the offer when it was so obvious they’d rather be alone together, Lola pushed back her chair. ‘It’s OK, I’ll leave you to it. And don’t worry, I think it’s great that you’re seeing each other.’
She honestly genuinely truthfully did. And not just because Cheryl was lovely and deserved someone nice after her pig of an ex-husband had abandoned her three years ago. Lola hugged them both and left them to enjoy their lunch in peace. What she couldn’t admit to anyone was the sensation of icy fear she’d experienced on realising that Cheryl didn’t want her to know who she was seeing.
Of course it seemed ridiculous now, but just for a while back there it had crossed her mind to wonder if it could have been Doug.
The blonde receptionist raised oh-so-polite, perfectly sculptured eyebrows as Lola sashayed past the desk. ‘Better now, madam?’
The receptionist who was so perfect, naturally, that she’d never been to the loo in her life.
Lola nodded and beamed at her. ‘Yes thanks. Much.’
The woman placing the order rested threadbare elbows on the counter and said, ‘It’s the most marvellous book, you know. Called When Miss Denby went to Devon. By Fidelma Barlow.
Have you heard of it?’
‘Sorry, no, that one’s passed me by.’ Lola typed the details into the computer.
‘Oh, it’s unputdownable, an absolute joy! I can’t understand why it isn’t a Sunday Times bestseller. It deserves to be made into a film!’ The woman nodded enthusiastically. ‘Miss Denby would be a wonderful role for Dame Judi Dench.’
Lola checked the screen. ‘Okaaay, yes, we can get that for you by Friday.’
‘Lovely!’ The woman’s face lit up. ‘Can I order fifty copies please?’
‘Fifty! Gosh.’ Maybe it was for a book club. Hesitating for a moment, Lola said, ‘You have to pay for them in advance, I’m afraid.’
‘Oh no, it’s OK.’ The woman shook her head. ‘I don’t want to pay for them.’
‘I know it’s a lot of money. But somebody has to.’
‘But not me! I just want you to put them on the shelves. Make a nice display like you do with the Richard and Judy books. Right at the front of the shop,’ the woman said helpfully, ‘so that people will buy them.’
By the time Lola had finished explaining the niceties of stock ordering to a disappointed Fidelma Barlow, it was almost eight o’clock, kicking out time. Fidelma, shoulders drooping, left the shop.
Lola, who knew just how she felt, dispiritedly straight- , ened a pile of bookmarks and wondered if she could bear to go along to the party tonight that Tim and Darren had invited her to ... except she already knew she couldn’t, which meant she was now going to have to come up with a convincing reason why not.
The next moment she looked up and almost fell over. There, standing six feet away like an honest-to-goodness mirage, was Doug.
Lola’s heart, which never listened to her head and hadn’t yet learned to stop hoping, went into instantaneous clattery overdrive.
‘Hello.’ She clutched the computer for support. ‘What’s this? Is my mum on the telly again?’
Doug smiled slightly. ‘No.’
‘My dad then? On Crimewatch?’
‘Haven’t spotted him on Crimewatch. Maybe he was the one in the balaclava.’ Tilting his head, Doug said, ‘But you’re half right. I am here because of your dad.’
‘You are?’ She hadn’t been expecting him to say that. ‘We had a chat on Saturday night.’
‘You did?’
‘He didn’t mention it? OK, obviously not. Well, we were at the Savoy.’
Lola boggled. ‘My dad was there?’ So that was why his mobile had been switched off. And to think he could have come along to the cinema with her instead.
‘Well, we didn’t communicate by telepathy. He spoke to me about you. Quite forcefully, in fact.’
Doug paused, then glanced over at a nervously hovering Darren who was waiting to empty the till. ‘Sorry, could you just give us a couple of minutes?’
‘Um, but I need to get the—’
‘Darren?’ Lola murmured the word out of the corner of her mouth. ‘Go away.’
‘OK’ Defeated, Darren slunk off.
‘I was watching you with that woman just now. The one who wanted you to stock her book,’
said Doug. ‘You were really nice to her.’
‘That’s because I’m a really nice person. Believe it or not. And you were eavesdropping.’
‘Not eavesdropping. Listening. Like I listened to your dad on Saturday night.’ He waited, gazing directly into Lola’s eyes. ‘I know why you took that money when my mother offered it to you.’
‘What?’ Lola felt as if all the air had been vacuumed out of her lungs. How could he know that?
It wasn’t physically possible, it just wasn’t.
Doug gave an infinitesimal shrug. ‘OK, I don’t know exactly why. But I do know it didn’t have anything to do with a Jeep.’
‘How? Why not?’ Anxiety was now skittering around inside Lola’s stomach like a squirrel.
‘Because you told me you could never tell me the reason you needed the money. And that’s what you said to your fathertoo.’ Doug tilted an eyebrow at her.. ‘But if the Jeep story was true, there’s no reason why you couldn’t have told us that. Therefore it stands to reason that it wasn’t.’